I like it; I find it fitting.
Hope dangles on a string
Like slow spinning redemption
Winding in and winding out
The shine of it has caught my eye
And roped me in
So mesmerizing, so hypnotizing
I am captivated
I am vindicated
I am selfish
I am wrong
I am right
I swear I'm right
I swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed
But I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself
So clear...
So turn
Up the corners of your lips
Part them and feel my fingertips
Trace the moment, fall forever
Defense is paper thin
Just one touch and I'd be in
Too deep now to ever swim against the current
So let me slip away...
...
The night glowed deep purple Tuesday night. A snow fell that silenced wind. White trees, white land, white curves held steady under the gaze of a blurry moon.
Quiet.
The creek rushed against wooden barriers -- Beaver Creek, perhaps, or some nameless waterway that was dry dirt in summer and rejoicing runoff in winter when all other life moved reluctantly.
Then there was another noise: brush against glass, systematically swiping the glow from the windshield. An unnatural noise.
I smiled then.
Who was I to disturb this night?
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